


Drugs and Candy

by Advocate_267



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smoking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 23:12:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14904002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Advocate_267/pseuds/Advocate_267
Summary: In which Yondu copes badly with his problems and Kraglin makes little steps to fix them.For Ravager Week 2018.





	Drugs and Candy

**Author's Note:**

> It's a little late but here's my piece for day one of Ravager week 2018.
> 
> The title/inspiration for this came from the song "Drugs and Candy" by All Time Low.
> 
> Hope you enjoy ^^
> 
> EDIT: Fixed a bunch of typos.

Everything was going to hell.

The exile. The mutinous talk. His relationship with Kraglin. Quill's betrayal. The kids.  _The kids._

Yondu had been in some dark places, places he banished from his mind the moment he threw on the flame. He could take it. He  _would_  take it, same as every other hurdle the bloody galaxy threw at him. Plaster on a deadly grin, swish about the bridge, flash his arrow just enough to remind everyone who's boss.

That was his daily routine, the mask he wore, the act that keep himself and everything he prized safe.

Now in the comfort of his cabin, in the company of none but a pack of smokes and the slew of knick-knacks sprinkled over every surface, he could let the mask drop.

He wasn't a huge smoker, not like Kraglin, who stuck a stick between his teeth every time something sent his skin crawling.

His first mate and crew were currently on shore leave, some planet with a ample supply of booze and love-bots. Yondu decline to join, once again flaunting his bulk with a degree of "got captainin' stuff to deal with, so shove off and get yerselves plastered." Tonight he needed more than that a strong shot of alcohol to numb his brain. He needed space. Time. Privacy to mull things over.

He needed to smoke.

Yondu reclined on his bed, striped down to all but his thermal layers, lighter flame casting his face in a weak orange glow. It was Kraglin's, said so in messy letters etched up the side, just like the pack of high-end cigarettes pinched from the first mate's possessions. Fancy stuff, Krags had obviously splurged last time they hit a market. They'd be missed sooner or later but he was unabashed to be caught breaking yet another code. Kraglin had stolen worse things from him, anyhow.

Yondu took a drag, smoke filling his lungs as thoughts about his first mate filled his head. Kraglin had been one of the only things left on his 'not yet fucked up' list. Him, and the centaurian's wily captain persona used to keep the crew in check. Both were cracking, pressure mounting beneath the surface like a dormant volcano. Once they exploded open, scattering debris in a fifty foot radius, Yondu had to make a choice on what to put back together first. Kraglin didn't like his decision.

Their relationship had never been smooth sailing (figuratively and literally; every time they had a bedroom romp someone always ended up on the floor due to turbulence), Ravager relationships never were, if Stakar and Aleta were a prime example. As of late Yondu didn't even know what to class him and Kraglin as. Every interaction was simply 'professional', something faked for prying eyes.

Yondu wasn't so blind he could forget the rest of his crew. Despite the swirling talks of 'softness' there still remained a small cluster of individuals he'd trust to watch his back. Tullk. Oblo. Loyal soldiers willing to put their lives on the line at their Captain's call.

But Kraglin was different. Not just when it came to intimacy. He knew more about Yondu than anyone else. Every scar, every ounce of carefully-disguised sentiment. He was also the one dealing with all his fucked up emotions.

Turns out Yondu wasn't the only one putting on a front.

He'd bark orders, Kraglin would follow them to a T, conversion minimal, the shifts would rotate, Yondu would get engrossed by office work, Kraglin would slink off to keep the rest of the ship running. Then at the end of it all, once Yondu was passed out in a (usually) booze-induced slumber, Krags would slip under the furs like a serpent, gangly arms kept locked around himself.

When next cycle rolled around Kraglin would rise and slip out just as discreetly. The bed was always cold when Yondu awoke, all traces he'd been joined faded like the bruises adorning his knuckles.

He didn't say a thing but Yondu could see it. Anger. Sadness. Exasperation. Hurt. Breakdown imminent, all hidden behind bloodshot eyes Yondu once swore shone brighter than the stars. Honestly Krag's only positive feature beauty-wise, now too lost to the hardness that came with baring the flame.

One part of him wished Kraglin would just get it over with. Lose the act, vent his frustrations good and proper while Yondu vented right back, arrow burning dangerously with no real intending of skewering his first mate. They had a screaming match like that once before, not too long after picking up lil' Quill. The grudge match only lasted a week before being resolved under the sheets.

 _Another weakness._ Something whispers, snide and disregarding. Yondu drowns it out with a coughing fit.

After burning through one smoke (and the lining of his throat for good measure) Yondu reaches for another. A 'ping' sounds from across the room and before Yondu can light it up the cabin door whooshes open, revealing the mug currently plaguing his mind.

Kraglin gets two inches into the room before reeling back, nose scrunched up. The first mate had a list of scenarios he expected to find Yondu in, asleep face-down on the desk, swilling booze by the bottle, fiddling with those little plastic buggers he hoards. Not...this.

He takes in Yondu, his lack of dress, the open cigarette packet, the wispy trails still curling from his last blunt. His mouth moves, trying to form words, before landing on a lame "Are those mine?"

His tone isn't exactly accusational, more shocked if anything. Yondu grunts, finally getting the stick lit. "Yeah," he confirms. He huffs a breath of smoke in Kraglin's direction mockingly. "What ya gonna do about it?"

Kraglin doesn't do a lot, actually. Just stands there, hovering in the frame, rat fangs gnawing his lower lip. He looks like a rookie again, gawky and awkward and too small for his leathers. However, unlike back then, he manages to suck it up, straightening to at least fain a rise in confidence. "Can ah come in?"

Yondu barks out something between a laugh and a cough. "Don't know why you'd wanna." He waves him away, ash sprinkling onto the furs. "Get outta here Krags. S'your downtime, enjoy it while it lasts."

It's the only way Yondu knows how to deal with these things. Step up the jerk act, hope it drives the other away long enough for him to re-collect himself. The centaurian figures that the end of it, going back to staring at the wall between short inhales. Kraglin doesn't move, watching the smoke twirl with an air of uncertainty.

Yondu's narrowed stare finds him again. "Ah thought ah told ya ta git. Ya gonna listen to yer captain, or are ya going mutinous too, huh?"

Kraglin visibly winces. It struck a cord that Yondu trusts him so lowly, paranoid of every action. He wasn't blind to the mutterings, eating away at their ship from the inside.

The sensible part of him knows he should do as Yondu says, leave him puffing through his rare smokes, acting none the wiser. But he'd come here with a goal, tucked safely at his hip, and he was gonna follow through with it.

Kraglin stuck his chin up and took a few steps further into the room. "No disrespect Sir, but yer ain't exactly bein' the primest example right now." He gestures to his pilfered smokes, now short a few.

Yondu's face goes all weird, emotions flashing that Kraglin can't decipher. He regains his frown quickly, eyes half-lidded, lips tight.

Kraglin waits a few moments, just to make sure Yondu didn't intend to chase him out with a flaming arrow. When no whistle sounds he settles on the bed, purchased awkwardly on the edge as if he'd be pushed off any moment. Yondu simple flicked away his current blunt and reached for another, ignoring Kraglin's look.

"I ain't sharin'."

"Don't want one."

"Why'd you even wanna be here then?" Yondu grits out after a tense ten seconds. "Ain't ya got a bot waiting? Sittin' all pretty like on 'er plinth?"

Kraglin colours, blue blossoming over his cheeks. He shakes his head wildly, going to his belt pouch and digging around for something.

Again, Yondu focuses his sight on anything but his first mate. Too bad his brain doesn't follow that notion, dredging up memories so clear they could be playing on a holo right in front of him. Him and Krags, alone together; a recipe that always led to a beautiful mess of some description. They'd be banging way before now any other time, clothes shook off messily, no questions asked. Obviously off the table now, unless a forbidden thing known as a "heart-to-heart" or worse, an  _apology_  were issued.

No way in hell. Yondu was too stubborn, Kraglin was too uptight, and neither posses the drive to mend the pieces back together.

Still didn't mean little steps couldn't be made.

The burning cigarette was plucked from Yondu's hand. It was replaced before he could kick up a fuss, annoyance melting into bafflement. "Huh?" Yondu quirked an eyebrow at the package suddenly in his grip, regarding it like the freakiest creature in the universe. "Wass this?"

"Candy." Kraglin answered simply. His weak smile isn't forced for the first time in cycles. "Was walking through the market an' saw a merchant."

Yondu held the packaged eyelevel, fingers teasing the brown wrapper."Why?"

Kraglin shrugged. "Though you could use some sweet stuff."

He had no idea. Though Yondu knew Kraglin had no idea what kinda 'sweet stuff' he was in need of and there was no way in hell he was mentally-capable of requesting it. So he slowly unwrapped the bundle, finding a bunch of little purple lumps. They had some planet-specific name however Quill used to refer to them as 'bonbons'. One was popped in his mouth. Kraglin watched him, lips quirking up at the sly look of bliss that comes over his captain's face.

"S'good." He swallowed, steeling his expression back to one of grumpiness."Thanks."

"No problem."

And there it was, the frosty silence, a staple both unwillingly became accustomed too. Yondu put his candy bundle beside the smokebox, a figurative barrier between them.

Kraglin slowly eased off the bed. Yondu was right, with his mission accomplished there was no use in staying there. "Guess I'll leave ya too it."

Yondu knew that look. His body taunt, like a startled animal. Kraglin was ready to bolt, probably back to the empty bridge so could wallow about alone, just like Yondu was doing now.

He got as far as the door. Something hit off the back of his head, light and painless, like a tiny meteor bouncing off their armoured hull.

"Wait."

Kraglin turned back. His face was blank, just as Yondu's, but a slither of hope lit his eyes. "Yes cap'tn?"

Yondu avoided those blues. His arm had moved quicker than his brain and now it strained to form words. "Well...ah, can't eat all these candies by meself."

It was a blatant lie, Kraglin had seen Yondu engorge himself on four cans of beasties without so much as a touch of gas, that bundle was but a side dish.

"Really?"

"Yeah, well, ah  _could_ -" Yondu blustered, crossing his arms. Kraglin's front was dropping, a cheeky smile breaking through. "But do ya know what these here things are made of? Nothin' but  _sugar_. Gonna make me fat snackin' on that lot. And since yer the only fucker here..."

It went unsaid, hung in the air like second hand smoke, but Kraglin got the gist. He slunk back, boots kicked off on the way, bringing his legs up onto the bed and sunk against the pillows. A fist full of bonbons were shoved immediatly in his face.

" _Mymth!_ " Kraglin gagged, Yondu laughing as his eyes bugged like an a-chiltarian. The first mate got him back with his own fist-full, spilling more than he actually got into Yondu's mouth. That attack quickly escalated, first a competition of who could fit the most bonbons in their cheeks without choking (it was Kraglin) then onto who could toss the sweets into each others mouths without missing (Yondu had the superior accuracy). Both ravagers were left wheezing, stomachs aching from more than just sugar acid.

Once all the candy was gone (either ingested or scattered over the floor) Kraglin excused himself. He wasn't stopped this time, Yondu curtly nodding him off. Conversation was still minimal, Yondu was still stoic, but it was a start and Kraglin left on the highest none he'd felt in a while. He planned on sleeping in one of the nav-chairs tonight, give Yondu his space. Tomorrow he'd try something else, small steps, piece-by-piece, mending this grand mess of madness.

Yondu sinks lower on the bed, candy wrapper discarded, pack of smokes slipped back into Kraglin's belt pouch while the first mate was too busy choking.

He feels oddly light, like the artificial gravity had been cranked down a few notches. He blames it on Kraglin's fancy cigarettes, tongue swiping his teeth to catch the last bitter tang of raspberry. He was was out of his head, for one reason or another, and he was going to savor it.

This moment of bliss, forgetting the world, it didn't solve all their problems. Tomorrow Yondu would put his leathers back on, tie the matching mask back over his face and meet everything with a crooked smirk. Kraglin would jump at his call, nothing but a picture of professionalism.

It was worth it. He couldn't fix everything, that was a cruel fact, guilt and regret weighing him down like deadweight. But he could numb the pain, one way or another.

He wasn't giving that up.


End file.
